Twisted Lies by Nora Cobb

 

Chapter 9

Astrid

 

“Shut your filthy hole before I shut it down.”

 

The shouting explodes across the dining hall during breakfast service for the upperclassmen. The cavernous room is instantly silent as forks still and eyes widen. Even the ambient noise in the hall ceases as everyone strains to listen.

 

I turn to look, and Justin is shouting like a tornado, howling into Pierce’s face. People gasp at the guy who embraces a California stoner attitude mixed with a thick layer of New York blasé. Justin rarely speaks over a whisper.

 

“But it’s your family doing it…again,” Pierce stands and points an accusing finger in Justin’s face. “Your family is dragging us all down.”

 

“That’s not true, and you know it!” Justin shouts back.

 

“It’s in the news!” howls Pierce, waving his arms. “Your family is an embarrassment, and when it couldn’t get any lower, it hits rock bottom and starts digging.”

 

I reach for my phone and tap Justin’s last name into the search. Oh, it is disturbing and gross. His father, Governor Ted Leister, has been named in a paternity suit by a woman barely older than Justin. Yikes, she almost looks like Justin—same long blonde hair and bedroom eyes. Roni and I exchange a WTF look while Terri strains his neck to see over the rows of turned heads.

 

Justin’s voice becomes low and menacing. “You know how I feel about him?”

 

“Your father?” Pierce laughs shortly. “This shit can’t be ignored.”

 

“How is my life your concern?” asks Justin, not backing down.

 

“Guys,” Bryce raises his voice to be heard. “Let’s not do this here.”

 

Pierce glares at Bryce as if he better shut the fuck up fast. He doesn’t back down while Bryce eyes him with feigned boredom. Pierce has been accused of being Bryce’s follower and marching in line whenever he’s commanded. But not now. Pierce intends to prove that he’s in command. His lips flatten into a hard line, and he’s ready to prove he’s in the number one position.

 

“Fuck off, Bryce, and keep your mouth shut while I’m talking.”

 

From my vantage point, it’s like watching a field of sunflowers turning toward the sun as everyone swivels their heads in the boys’ direction. Gary and his staff have even stepped out of the kitchen to witness the shouting match. My former boss is more interested in the argument than finding a faculty member to end it.

 

“Shut my mouth?” Bryce scoffs. “I’m the only one here who says anything that matters.”

 

“In your own myopic world,” snaps Pierce. “You may have the bank, but where’s the plan going? You have to think about the larger picture, my boy. Sugar daddies don’t live forever. Ask Wyatt.”

 

Wyatt looks up from his plate and glares at Pierce like the other man’s demise will be his dessert. Wyatt doesn’t say a word, and that talks louder than anything we’ve heard so far. Wyatt steps away from the table and strolls toward Pierce, whose jaw tics as he clenches his fists.

 

Wyatt leans in, whispers against Pierce’s ear, and then casually walks away. Pierce watches Wyatt as he stalks out of the dining hall, never looking back. But all eyes are attached to his every move as Wyatt throws the heavy oak door open and leaves the building.

 

Pierce points at Justin. “When I get back, you better be sitting at another table.”

 

Pierce marches down the aisle with his broad shoulders hunched as if he’s stalking a fleeing prey. The door cracks against the wall and then shakes on its old hinges as he exits the hall.

 

“Omigod,” says a lone voice, “They’re going to fight.”

 

Like a mass of ants scurrying around an anthill, people jump up from their seats and crowd the few clear windows looking out into the yard. I run toward the door with a few others tagging along. Set in motion, people hurry in all directions to see what we all know will happen—a major battle in the schoolyard.

 

The posh attitudes and prim manners morph into bloodthirsty, savage glee as people shout, push, and rush to get a better look. Eager to see a beatdown happen inches from their leering faces. It’s like a night at the Pit, except the grooming is better. I’m swept up in the fever, and the devil gets the better of me as I start a chant as loud as I can.

 

“Wyatt. Wyatt. Wyatt.”

 

The chanting picks up, but not everyone is on Wyatt’s side as the two boys face off on the path leading to the gate. I get jostled when I don’t move fast enough, and it’s just like the old days at Monarch, before there was a pit, when it was a schoolyard after dark, and someone had a wicked grudge. We surround Wyatt and Pierce as they pace each other in a tight circle. It’s on when they toss their school blazers to the ground.

 

Faces turn savage and ugly, snarling as they scream for someone to start punching. Repressed from following the rules in the handbook, the energy explodes as our civilized school crumbles into raging madness.

 

“Hit him, Pierce!”

 

“Kick his ass, Wyatt!”

 

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

 

“Show me the blood!”

 

The crowd jostles each other like a massive wave blocking out the sky above. I’m caught in the fury as I’m swept side to side by bodies longing for pain and payback. Stonehaven has never felt more alive. More familiar.

 

The rage twists the two boys’ faces, and I never knew how much they hated one another. Wyatt strikes the first blow—right into Pierce’s fat mouth. His head is thrown back with a snapping motion as the screaming hits a screeching crescendo. Pierce rotates his head in a circle, working out the pain. He’s wobbly but glaring at Wyatt as he tosses out a jab that doesn’t connect. That’s on purpose—his strategy to bring Wyatt’s defenses down. Someone shouts, demanding another blow, and that’s distraction enough for Pierce to land a hard punch in Wyatt’s chest. Hunching over, Wyatt stumbles back and remains bent over with a destructive look in his eyes. Pierce smirks as he keeps his form, but Wyatt looks like a young lion ready to rip Pierce into bloody shreds.

 

“How’s the bank account, Wyatt?” Pierce goads him. “Does it match your IQ yet?”

 

Pierce flinches when Wyatt snarls, showing his teeth, and he’ll have to do better to beat Wyatt. Someone screams as Wyatt lunges forward and grabs Pierce in a headlock. Several fast blows pummel into Pierce’s gut as Pierce strikes Wyatt’s legs. They’re locked tight as they struggle to get in another hook.

 

Above the mayhem, a deep voice roars a stern command, and the crowd instantly splits in two. Kids fall away and scatter in all directions as if blown away on a breeze. Dr. Rawlins appears with Gary in the circle.

 

“Stop this immediately!” shouts Dr. Rawlins, “Are you both mad?”

 

A security guard pulls Wyatt off while Gary grabs Pierce by the upper arms. Pierce’s nose is bleeding, and his pressed cotton shirt is decorated with spatters of blood. Wyatt tosses his head back, displaying a red mark underneath his bruised eye.

 

“Both of you get to my office.” Dr. Rawlins spins around, eyeing each member of the mob with a look that should’ve made us all fall down at her feet. “Get to class, all of you. I won’t say it again.”

 

Kids start running as if competing for a gold trophy, and I run along with them. I begin to laugh, feeling joyful that Wyatt landed a punch on that bitch boy. Sure, he’s in trouble with Rawlins, but it was worth watching his fist make contact. I turn when I feel someone touch my shoulder.

 

“What a fucking mess,” laughs Roni, “I’d sit in detention for a month to see that again.”

 

“Fuck,” I reply, “I forgot to use my phone.”

 

“I didn’t,” replies Roni, darting off toward her building, “Fifty other kids and I will share it later on social.” We wave goodbye as we hurry off toward our classes.